


Two Blokes and a Blondie

by chunkymonkey



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fantasy, Female Niall, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gender or Sex Swap, M/M, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 02:19:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chunkymonkey/pseuds/chunkymonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall, Louis, and Harry are suddenly coached to become unparalleled assassins. Of course this wouldn't be half as interesting if troll-looking trainer Zayn and hot Liam weren't with Niall (and feel her pain) to witness Louis and Harry do what they always do 24/7.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Blokes and a Blondie

Bloody hell. I love what I do – honest to goodness, I sincerely do, especially when playing on the tennis courts. But it’s just these fucking cuckoo paparazzi reporters, who absolutely adores to teleport everywhere I go outside courts. Harry slings his arms on my bony shoulders, and I can feel his sticky breath touch my ear. “They’d die for an autobiography with naked pictures, I reckon.”

The paparazzi go ballistic and prod further. “Is it true that you’re quitting tennis for good?” No. Asshole, I make a living out of it, why would I go pauper.

“How’s your love life, Niall?” Virtually non-existent, if you don’t count a few hook-ups here and there.

“Are you really always mad at the world?” No. And yes. Maybe sometimes. Fuck it, it’s complicated. 

“Rumors say you’re a quiet lady. What about that?” Hmm, I like to call myself a keen observer, s’all.

I snort and mumble, “Be my guest, Styles. God, what do they want! I’m not One Direction or something.” I don’t see him – not with all the blinding lights – but I definitely feel him smirk. “Well someone’s in a foul mood. Wait, when are you not in a foul mood. Don’t be jealous, world champion tennis player Niall Horan. You can have naked pictures of me.” I jab him on the ribs with my elbow, craning my neck to see if we’re still following Louis. “Ha ha, I’m laughing my ass off now. You know, if you were claustropho – Shit!” And Harry dashes onward.

He apparently grew an extra pair of balls tonight because he manages to slyly evade the photographers (and give everyone a mini heart-attack), even after almost toppling over Louis and I. Honestly, I was about to thwack that pretty boy right in the balls if it weren’t for the fact that he actually saved our ass out there. 

But right now, I feel dizzy, and Louis fucking figured it out. He bursts into laughter and leans on the red brick wall of a dark side street Harry wonderfully ushered us into. “S’not funny, Louis. Harry was dragging us too fast – and I wasn’t prepared!” 

I support myself with the help of Harry, who fails at resisting a laugh, “Prepared for what? An “It’s A Small World” ride?” And cue Louis’ and Harry’s incessant mockery of jokes.

I let out an exasperated groan, looking pleadingly at no one in particular. “Dickheads.”

“Oh stop being such a girl, Horan.” Louis, still laughing his ass off.

I flip him off, “That’s because I am a girl. What proof do I have to show you?” Instantly, his face lights up. His lips curl upward, and devious intentions fill his eyes. “What do you have in mind?” I gulp as I see the glint in Harry’s eyes as well. “You know, as much as I hate the photographers’ blinding flashes, I equally fancy other flashes.” 

And now they want to see me naked. Again. Excellent, really, because two of my best buddies, who are madly smitten with each other, still have male hormones. “Dear God, go to the internet and find porn! I am not showing you anything.” Louis pouts and jumps behind Harry for a piggyback ride. “But the girls aren’t as hot as you!”

“Jesus, Louis! Are you a truck?” Harry attempts to shove him off, but only manages to look like a dancing zombie. Louis – unsurprisingly – doesn’t look crossed at all, “No. Why? I absolutely love cheesy pick-up lines! Why, Harry? Why?”

“Because you weigh a ton. Now get of me before I decided to turn straight –“ Harry looks at me, “Tell me again why you decided to become some scary buff tennis pro instead of going for hot Hollywood glamour? Because,” he whistles, scrutinizes me from head to toe, “you definitely have the looks and body for it, you blondie.” 

My cheeks are getting redder by the second. 

“Fuck you, Harry! Why aren’t you ever that sweet to me?” Louis’s standing now, arms folded across his chest, looking as offended as he can. Harry walks to him, eyes locked on his, while his fingers caresses Louis’ cheekbone, then jaw line, then the edges of his lips. Clearly Louis is enjoying basking in his love’s attention, and his hands intertwine behind Harry’s neck, closing the gap between them and playfully fiddling with the curly locks. Their foreheads are touching; mouths moving in inaudible sounds, until Louis smashes his lips unto Harry’s passionately. 

I sigh and rub my temples. Not again. This happens everysingleday. I mean, it’s not like I don’t dig them together. They’re my best friends. God knows they’re perfect for each other’s wanker faces, but seriously, it’s tiring to be 50% snogging spectator, 25% flirting viewer, and 25% Niall. I lean my head back at the concrete wall of some building and close my eyes. I vaguely hear a soft ding behind my head, but dismiss it as a delusion after tonight’s whack events. “And here’s my daily dose of lovely gay por – bloody hell!”

On the bright side, Harry and Louis have stopped sucking each others’ throats and started hugging each other, screaming in the black, bottomless abyss we’re plunging into instead. On the down side, we’re falling down in a black, bottomless abyss, which magically appeared after the floor below us thundered and split.

“When will this end! I don’t want to die!! Save me Niall!” Harry wails and shouts over our screams.

“At least you’ll die with me, babe, the hottest man on earth.” Trust Louis to still flirt even when he’s falling to his death. 

“Mhmm… Nevermind, Niall.” 

“Why am I friends with you guys again?!” I stare at them, incredulous. Was Harry seriously buying that? Flirting over thinking of a way to save our asses? Really, do they not get the fucking gravity of the situation? That gravity is actually going to smash our bones when we land! That’s it. I’ve given up hope. I’m going to die. Alone. With two love-drunk blokes. Who ends up snogging each other. And making unnecessary moans. And love bites. 

“Just kill me now,” I mutter. I resist the urge to makeshift them as a cushion when we hit ground. “To my future husband: I’m deeply sorry for leaving you on a whim. I’m sure we’d beat Harry and Louis any day in make-out competitions, but sadly, I’m dying soon. Love you so very much.” I recount my life: the games, friendships, and relationships, how everything has been an honor to serve in Life’s army. 

However, commander Life seemed to disapprove as with that, we hit grassland. Gently, in fact, and I stare dumbfounded at the gobsmacked faces of Louis and Harry. “What the…” Louis tentatively says. “This doesn’t feel like heaven. It’s too real,” he pinches me on the cheeks before I swat him away. “Ow, Louis. That hurts!”

Then cue the realization that dawn on us three.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Bloody hell!”

“We’re alive!!!!!” 

We shrill, jump and group hug in ecstasy, not minding any of our surroundings, instead dancing and twirling in random circles. Our euphoria is short-lived, however, when we hear something sharp, like a sword being sheathed out of its scabbard. Then Harry and I stop dead on our tracks when we actually feel something sharp – a blade whose side sits precariously on our necks, and whose tip ends a few more inches behind Harry. No one dare look behind – even Louis is concentrated on Harry’s curls – to see who the assailant is. “Shit, that’s long,” I grumble at the sword.

Harry stifles his snickers so as not to get happily sliced by the shiny steel. “That’s what she definitely said.” 

“We should’ve recorded that, Harry! For future blackmail and references, damn it.”

I breathe deeply. I pray that the aggressor hears my silent wishes and kill them both now because, really, they never stop flirting. Never. “You faggots. We’re about to be murdered and all you think about are teases and blackmail?”

“Shut up or I’ll kill three of you right here,” the unfamiliar voice from behind shushes.

“Well, we would’ve if you actually said something right after you decided to threaten us with your blade,” Louis scoffs, unfazed at anything to be honest. I internally kick his shins for being so Louis, and decide to flirt my way through worst case scenario. I feel the guy shift his feet, most probably debating whether to kill us or to kill us. We’re screwed. Louis’s presence alone vaporizes any chances of survival, and being with Harry doesn’t increase any of it. 

“Don’t move,” the low voice commands. “And don’t even talk.” His weapon is now tucked in its rightful case (thank the heavens), and he slowly turns each of us around, back facing him. I still don’t have the slightest clue as to what he looks like – not that I want to. Just, you know, making sure our captor isn’t some hot dude. Because that’d be a total waste. He handcuffs our hands in chain-linked manacles, so the three of us won’t get separated. 

“Gee, handcuffs? They’re pretty boring you know.”

“Louis stop being hormone raged!” I whine, hoping that an angel will smack sense into him.

“This is quite serious, if you haven’t noticed.” Harry hisses for the first time. Pride and joy overwhelm me. My bud finally stood up to the King of the Jokes! I am also pretty sure that the dude (let’s call him that for now for he has not generously offered his name) heard him, but just chooses to drag us three through the grasslands until we reach an immensely barricaded community. 

It’s annoying me that I haven’t seen his face yet. He’s only so kind so as to show his back to us the entire trip – not that it helps anyway. He has dark hair. He wears a long black coat, with his collar up, dark skinny pants, with black boots. I can already feel what a ray of sunshine he is. When I tried to pace faster, to surreptitiously glance at him, he just walks even further; when I thought of some clever question to which he will answer (I hoped) and look at me, he ignored me. Louis and Harry seemed to have picked up what I was attempting throughout the long and droning journey. They tried to help for lack of better to do. “God, he’s like stone or something,” Louis whispers somewhere along the way.

And now here I am, facing the massive metal gates to the entrance of land unknown, extremely pissed that I still do not know his fucking name and still have not seen his fucking face. I bet he looks like some troll with odd looking eyes and hair spewing everywhere. Yes, that’s got to be it, why he’s not shown a single facet yet. Definitely because he’s ugly and ashamed. I smile at myself, content at the theory I concocted. 

“We’re going to the King to figure out what do with you three. Behave properly; no funny business,” he blatantly states as he unlocks the gate, not even bothering to check if we’re trying to escape from our fugitive state. Well what’s there to be scared of anyway when you’ve captured two gay blokes and a blond girl? Nothing. Exactly. Christ, we’re such dimwits. We aren’t any bit of intimidating at all.

His voice sends chill down our spines. We nod vigorously (as if he can see that) to placate his unremitting anger, and look at each other, unsure of what to expect and feel. Harry’s smiling, apparently thrilled of the adventure that awaits, and Louis is excitedly mouthing weird words I can’t translate to which I just nod sympathetically. 

“And for heaven’s sake,” his tone silences us into deeper stillness. He slowly pushes the gates open with his sculpted arms – no, what? I haven’t even seen them. Stop imagining, Niall. He’s a troll with stubbles growing everything!

“Don’t,” I snap from my reverie through his voice. Is that his favorite word? Don’t? Because I’m sure as hell he’s said it a million times already. “try to flirt with the King. Or anyone for that matter. Or I’ll stab you.” And for once in his entire life, finally about time to happen, Louis looks a great deal petrified. 

Is that his hobby as well? Killing people?

The walk to the oh-so majestic, grand castle was irrelevant – yes, I count Louis and Harry teasing each other irrelevant after much deliberation. Shocking. The city looks like any other city back home, except this one’s surrounded by tall walls and the people are... different. I wouldn’t say peculiar, suppose that’s very derogatory, since I’m the one actually invading their space. And it’d hurt me too if they called me peculiar. Oh God I’m turning philosophical and boring.

Mysterious troll with perpetual stubble disappears in the shadows, and now we are magically in a spacious throne room. I squint to see who’s actually sitting on the throne room. “Why does this room have to be fucking huge. All I see are space,” I mutter.

“Tell me about it. If I were the king – not saying I’m not one – I’d absolutely build gardens and tree houses of the sort, and of course…” Louis drones on about creating the perfect picturesque fortress, until someone clears his throat, finally removes his ass from his lavish chair, and walks toward us.

Harry tiptoes as if it’ll make him have a clearer vision of the far away King. “I wish he looks dashing. Wouldn’t want to be crestfallen after the fall,” he says, not bothering to keep it down. I distantly hear a scowl from the shadows, probably the troll (let’s call him that for the meantime) because we aren’t heeding his frightening rules. “But I thought I was the most dashing! I maintain a very a diligent facial care routine,” Louis pouts, “for you, and you don’t even notice.”

I hear a familiar unsheathing of a sword accompanied with quick footsteps. My heart races, not ready to die such a torrid death. “Stop it. You’re getting us beheaded by a troll!”

Thankfully, the King now stands in front of us. He raises a hand to the shadows, smiles at our gawking faces, and slowly shakes his head. “Thank you, Zayn, but I’d greatly appreciate it if you don’t reduce our heroes to pieces.” So that’s the fucker’s name: Zayn. Oh sweet Jesus, I don’t know how to react. Do I bow? Do I kneel and kiss his hand? Or should I say some fancy words as an element of surprise? My palms are sweaty, and my knees are about to buckle. My mind whirls in random thoughts as I silently whistle. This King is one hot lad. 

“Err, sorry, you called us heroes?” Harry quizzically asks. I get nothing out of my mouth, too dry and flustered to speak.

“Yes, you have been chosen to save my wife, Danielle, who was kidnapped.” The King, clad in a purple robe too long for his height, simply stands, hands clasped together, waiting for us to acquiesce. 

Awkward silence. A thousand gay babies born. Heaven help us because there will be more Harrys and Louis to invade our poor planet. The King senses our hesitation and laughs with ease. “Right, I forgot that you’re new. Best if I explain the whole thing, yeah?” From my peripheral view, I see Louis’s face light up. Obviously he thinks the King is a catch as well. “Puh-lease do so.” Harry lets out a soft gruff as a sign of dissatisfaction, to which Louis surreptitiously holds his hand and caresses Harry’s thumb with his. 

“To start, I’m Liam Payne, king of this city. And I believe you met Zayn on your way here? Zayn Malik, he’s my trusted officer,” he beckons Zayn to come forward from the darkness of the walls. 

As we fully ingest and digest the sight to behold, Harry and Louis gasp – and I clearly understand why. He’s definitely no troll, I can tell you that. His dark hair (which I will defend as a stubble because no, I won’t accept that any of my previous assumptions are erroneous) perfectly fixed and long eyelashes that can revolve around the world, this pretty boy’s got my boys around his fingers. He nods in acknowledgement, placing his hands in his coat pockets. He’s not my type at all, but I see the attraction.

“How’d you do, handsome?” Louis goes full-on predator only to be stopped by Liam’s chuckle.

“Is there something funny?” I ask, confused that Liam isn’t a tad bit affected at Louis’ pursuit in fucking his trusted officer. 

“No, not really. But it’s just that everyone falls in love with how he looks. Swoons over him right away. Even the guys.” Louis and Harry nod a bit too eager in accordance. Zayn rolls his eyes, which eventually lands on mine, and we lock gazes, until he looks away. Nope, definitely not feeling any butterflies at all. “I’m tired of not being taken seriously, Liam! I’m a man who can defend the king,” he whines.

“Whining isn’t really a man thing to do, Zayn,” I retort smartly, smug written all over my face. Louis hoots at this, “Nice one!” and we high-five at our triumph. Harry nudged me with his elbow, snickering, unable to victory headlock me due to our handcuffs. Zayn – 0; Niall – 1. Pretty boy shoots me a glare, probably contemplates on whether to do his favorite hobby again (killing, if you forgot), and possibly curses me in his mind.

Liam clears his throat. “As I was saying. The three of you came here, as chosen heroes by the Fates, to save my wife, the queen of this city, and prevent World War 3 from starting. I know this seems incredulous, and I understand if any of you feel skeptical, but please deeply consider it.” He gives the three of us hopeful looks. Honestly, with a guy with a face as earnest (and good looking) as his, who could deny? Harry, Louis and I gaze briefly at one another, an unspoken agreement created. We nod at each other, then Louis and I stare at Harry to announce our grand acceptance.

“W-w-we accept your offer, your- uh, highness?”

Liam eases into a wide beam, and his not-so-tense body calms even more. “Liam is fine, no formalities needed, especially if you’re saving my queen and city.” He glimpses at Zayn to give relieved chuckle and adds, “That was a fairly fast decision, though. This whole thing’s so new to you three I thought you’d go berserk and need time to cool down.” 

I shrug. “What do you expect from two gay blokes and a blondie?”

“You should give us a new pseudo, babe. Gay blokes and blondie are to-ta-lly seductive.” Harry feigns devastation, “it hurts our feelings.” And I reply with a facetious scandalized face, “But it’s cute, and I would to-ta-lly dig us!”

“I’d rather you call us the ‘drunk threesome’.” Louis chimes in, shaking us along with his odd dance, with the manacles and all. “That’s different on so many levels, even if I love you.” I nod, feeling a blush pervading my cheeks. Despite hearing numerous flirtatious statements, I still manage to redden at any intimate reference. Oh, joy, the wonder of life.

Again, to catch our ADHD attention span, Liam clears his throat. Clearly he’s not used to not being in the center of attention, him being king and all. “Anyway, Zayn will help you train to be fit to rescue Danielle. He’s the best assassin, and I’m sure he’ll get you lads in shape in no time. Unfortunately, we have only one guest bedroom left, so one of you has to share a room with Zayn.”

The three of us stopped. No, no, no. I am most definitely, positively, absolutely not sharing a room with a stranger, much less a trained pretty boy assassin. I know Harry and Louis wants to share a room, but dear god, let them abscond from their lusts this time. “I can room with Zayn,” Louis volunteers. I let out a deep sigh of relief. Harry’s the best bet, but since Louis volunteered, and I didn’t want to be forced to be roomies with Zayn, I guess that’d do. I try to calm my racing heart, but I realize that my hands are tied up with my two loves.  
“Alright then. Settled! Best if you get a good sleep today. You can start tomorrow.” 

“But if Zayn’s the best assassin, why can’t he just rescue your damsel in distress?” Harry doesn’t hide his disconcerted tone at Louis’ volunteering. Liam smiles, “Because it’s the plan of the Fates.”

“Wait. Can we at least get out of these shackles? They’re killing our wrists.”

“Zayn, please do me the favor.”

He trudges over to us, still the same stoic expression plastered on his face. He doesn’t bother looking at us, not worrying to make us feel at home sweet home. From the way he’s acting, he really isn’t excited by the fact that he has to spend the next hours with us. But truth be told, I am. Because that means I have someone sane to actually be with. And it also means that I have someone to bear the brunt with watching live heated snogging. When Zayn starts unlocking Louis’ handcuffs, Louis licks his lips and looks hungrily at him. Harry wails at Louis to be loyal and begs for mercy. I crack up at the sight in front me. 

Amidst our noise, I hear a quiet whisper, “Fucking hell, just strike me with a lightning bolt now.”

I turn to Zayn and snicker. Finally, someone who’s more miserable than me when hanging around the two.


End file.
